


Rough Justice

by SerenAur



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Newt Scamander, Hurt Newt Scamander, Protective Original Percival Graves, Strip Search, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-07 20:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenAur/pseuds/SerenAur
Summary: Mistakenly arrested during a smuggling raid, Newt Scamander has a rough time in the cells before Percival Graves intervenes.  Just how rough becomes apparant as Percival takes Newt's statement.





	1. Chapter 1

3am sees Percival Graves awaking suddenly from a rather undignified slumber at his desk. It isn’t the first time he’s dozed off over late night paperwork, despite the fact he actually has a cot bed concealed in the next room. By the time he’s tired enough to break off from work it’s usually too late. He isn’t generally woken by the sound of alarms though – that’s definitely novel.

Hauling himself to his feet and wiping the drool from his face he hastily exits the office into the larger communal workspace outside, virtually deserted at this hour. The alarm is louder out here and a panel on the far wall is flashing an urgent shade of red.

“What the hell?” Graves demands of a passing Auror.

“It’s the holding cells!” she gasps, a little too excitedly. “Perhaps it’s a break out? I’ve never seen this kind of alarm before!”  
Graves hasn’t either, which concerns him. The MACUSA holding cells have some damn high level security - it’s almost never necessary for them to activate this kind of external alarm. Something pretty extreme must be underway. 

Cursing under his breath Graves crosses to the flashing panel and places the palm of his hand to its centre. A few appropriate words and he is apparated the ten storeys down, as close as it is possible to get to the spells surrounding the high-security area. He is greeted by a tall, dark-skinned woman who doesn’t look at all pleased to see him. “Director Graves, sir!” she exclaims. “We weren’t expecting to see you here at this hour. I…I believe the incident is being contained sir. No need for panic.”

“Who’s panicking? Get me in there” he orders. She hesitates, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry sir, I’ll need you to…” She draws her wand and holds it up in front of her expectantly. Because of course Graves thinks, just recognising him isn’t enough these days. He’s had his appearance well and truly compromised. If only they’d been this on-the-ball with the security protocols while Grindlewald had been among them. Although, of course, the bastard had no doubt put quite a bit of effort into circumventing the system.

Graves raises his own wand without comment and touches the tip to the guard’s proffered wand. She’s quick and efficient, drawing the conformation she needs and giving a terse nod as she steps back.

“Thank you, sir. You understand?” 

“Of course, of course. Now what’s the situation in there Auror…”

“Mahmoud sir. They’ve reported an Auror injured, sir and a prisoner on the loose, although he hasn’t attempted to exit the secure area. They picked him up in the smuggling raid tonight. The last report was unclear. They had him contained, but something was wrong. I couldn’t get anything more so I activated the alarm. The response team should be here any moment.”

“Good work Mahmoud. Get me in there and I’ll assess the situation. Send the team in as soon as you can.” He senses a flicker of hesitation from her, but she activates the access spells without comment. The door rolls open and he strides through, feeling oddly energised. It’s a change from paperwork anyway.

As the door rolls shut securely behind him noise hits him with an almost solid force. The alarm is still sounding, loud and urgent but now there’s a chaotic banging noise accompanying it. It’s the prisoners, he realises. On lockdown in the cells they’re beating on the walls and doors in response to the sound of the alarms. “Hell’s teeth!” he mutters as he moves away from the door, nerves suddenly on edge. He keeps a hand on his wand handle, ready to draw. Spotting a house-elf cowering in a corner he gestures for it to come over.

“What’s the situation? He demands brusquely. “Has the escaped prisoner been contained or not? Where is everyone?”

“Oh sir! It is awful sir what they is doing to him. Taking his clothes and hurting him and he is such a kind man!” The elf wrings its hands anxiously, staring at Graves with large, moist eyes.

“Where?” Graves demands again. “And who are you talking about? The prisoner?”

“I is not knowing his name sir but he has been kind when I met him before. I is not understanding why they want to lock him up and hurt him. They say he is hurting the other man but I think he is hurt first and now they is locking him in with the bad men sir! The ones in the cages.” The elf moans in distress, rolling its eyes and extending a trembling hand towards the far end of the corridor where a door marked “High Security Cells” is incongruously ajar.

Graves shakes his head, not really understanding what the elf has said but following the directing hand towards the open door. As he opens it he knows he’s in the right place by the throng of people all straining to see over each other’s shoulders to catch a glimpse of whatever incident is still occurring in the cells. 

“What is this? Report!” he barks as he forces his way through the crowd. The cells here are cages as the elf had described – bars on all sides enhanced with spells and wards to keep the more violent types of detainee contained. Attention is focused on the central cell, although no-one is getting too close to the bars, despite the protections, just in case.

Closest is an Auror with a pale, bloodied face and bloodstained shirt. He is staring into the cell with a manic glint in his eye and a grin which is somewhat at odds with the fact that the prisoner in the cell is screaming to be let out.

“Go on Hughes get in there! Give it to the puny bastard you pathetic asshole!” the Auror shouts.

“No fear!” the prisoner yells back hysterically. “Look what he’s done to Chapman here. Look at him! That ain’t right you can’t keep me in here with that it’s against my rights. Let me out!”

“What the hell is going on? Auror Anders, explain yourself!” Graves says with enough authority to silence the room. People nearest the door start to sidle out, hoping Graves hasn’t noticed them personally. Graves glowers at Anders who points into the cell.

“This one’s trouble sir” he says quickly, his bloody nose giving an unpleasant, wet rattle to his words. “He broke my nose and got loose when we were trying to search him. And now he’s gone berserk sir, injuring prisoners. Look at him!”

Graves looks into the cell and sees a naked man lying on the floor, limbs thrashing wildly. It’s horribly apparent that both his shoulders are dislocated and his skin is crawling with a weird electrical discharge that crackles and pops. He seems unaware of his surroundings - in fact Graves is unsure if he’s even conscious, despite his body’s frantic motion. At first Graves assumes that this is the injured prisoner, but then he notices another man lying in the corner with scorched clothing and burnt skin. The other prisoner, Hughes, clinging to the bars of the cells cries desperately: “You can’t leave me in here with this freak. Please, get me out for God’s sake!”

Graves steps closer, heart sinking as he looks more carefully at the first man. His nakedness reveals a lean, well-muscled body, covered from neck to foot in scars old and new. But it’s not this that alarms Graves…he _recognises_ this man. Finding him here, in this situation, means that something has gone very badly wrong indeed. 

He addresses the room at large, voice made powerful with anger. “Will somebody please tell me what in the name of Merlin we are doing with Newton Scamander in our cells? And what the _hell_ have you done to him?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves persuades Newt to give his statment of the night's events.

6am sees Percival Graves back at his desk, awake and nursing a strong coffee. In front of him are the reports of Auror Anders and the other arresting officers from the night’s smuggling raid. All of them attest to a difficult, dangerous prisoner who, having been apprehended attempting to purchase illegal creatures, had resisted arrest, assaulted three Aurors in the course of being searched, escaped and been recaptured before injuring another prisoner in a show of some kind of wild, dark magic. 

None of this sits well with the impression Graves has been given of Scamander as a quiet, eccentric, essentially harmless man by those who were involved in the events leading to Grindlewald’s capture and his own release from captivity. Given the state he had found Scamander in Grave suspects there may be a flipside to his Aurors’ report that he would be interested in hearing. He’s seen a lot in his years at MACUSA, but Scamander lying naked, injured and in considerable distress in a cell surrounded by gawping onlookers certainly rates as disturbing.

Sighing, Graves looks across the room to where Scamander is now lying, clothed and healed, still unconscious, on the little used cot bed. In repose his face looks younger, with a prettiness belying what Graves has seen of the man’s tough, scarred body. Graves scowls as he catches himself in that thought. He fancies he sees the first signs of waking – a change in breathing, a movement of the closed eyes. He’s barely had time to register this when Scamander suddenly sits bolt upright with a loud intake of breathe. A split second later he flings himself to the floor and rolls under the low bed. Graves blinks and sets his coffee down on the desk, taken aback at the speed of the man’s reaction. He wouldn’t have thought it possible for a grown man to hide under such a small bed, but Scamander is managing it – only the sound of his harsh breathing giving him away.

Graves clears his throat. “Please don’t be afraid Mr Scamander” he begins. “My name is Percival Graves, Director of MACUSA and you are in my personal office. No harm will come to you here, you have my word. I have your case and I am authorised to return it to you after taking your statement regarding tonight’s, ah…_events_.” Silence. 

“Mr Scamander…” he tries again, a note of impatience creeping in. 

“Newt. It’s Newt” a soft voice says. A moment later Newt wriggles out from under the bed and hauls himself stiffly to his feet. He hangs his head and glances nervously around the room, eyes darting from place to place, not resting anywhere. After a brief sweep of Graves he doesn’t look at him again. His hands begin to twitch at his sides.

“My case Mr Graves?” he asks. His voice is surprisingly even despite the twitching and averted gaze. Graves purposely doesn’t offer Newt reciprocal first name terms. There’s hardly a need for such intimacies at this stage he thinks.

“Your case is quite safe Mr Scamander. Newt.” Newt turns to him at the use of his name, although his eyes are focussed on the desk rather than his person. 

“It will be returned to you in due course I assure you. But first I will require you to make a statement regarding your arrest and subsequent treatment tonight. ” 

“Is that quite necessary Mr Graves? Really, I’ve travelled widely and I’m well used to a certain amount of rough treatment. If you could just let me have my case and assure your colleagues that I was attempting to liberate abused creatures _not_ participate in smuggling them…incidentally, what happened to the creatures? I hope someone thought to take care of them, there was a pregnant female I was really quite concerned about…”

“_Mr Scamander_” Graves cuts off the rapid stream of speech he feels is running out of control. “The surviving beasts were taken by MACUSA to be used as evidence. I’m sure you…” He stops abruptly as Newt steps closer and fixes him with a sudden, furious stare. Now that he has eye contact, Graves finds he can’t look away. The firey intensity in the other man’s eyes causes an answering heat to spread across Graves’ face and, if he’s being honest, other regions as well. He scowls and shifts uncomfortably.

“You said ‘surviving’ Mr Graves.” Newt says in a low voice, as steady and intense as his gaze. “How many didn’t survive? How many creatures did they kill?” He bangs his hands on the desk and turns away abruptly. He begins to pace the room agitatedly, left hand twitching at his side again while he tugs hard at his hair with the right. Graves notices that he is dragging his left leg slightly, as if unable to move it properly.

“I was so close! I could have saved them, I could have taken them. _What did they do_?” He demands this last of Graves, approaching the desk again. 

“Please Mr Scamander, sit down. Several of the beasts were of a highly dangerous and vicious nature, it was impossible for them to be taken alive.”

“It’s not the creatures who are dangerous!” cries Newt, close to tears. “They were abused, distressed, they needed careful handling. If those Aurors hadn’t interfered I could have…”

“Sit down Mr Scamander!” Graves bellows, although his words have the opposite effect on Newt, who retreats back towards the cot bed. “You had no business being present at that raid and your actions potentially threatened the success of the mission and the safety of my Aurors. I have three reports here that say you have been uncooperative and violent and you have caused a major incident tonight which I have had to deal with personally.”

“That’s not really fair” Newt mumbles. “I tried to explain, but no-one would listen. I tried to tell them how to handle the creatures too but…well…Nobody ever listens.” He finishes sadly, shoulders sagging. He’s beginning to look quite unsteady on that leg.

“Mr Scamander, please sit.” Graves says with a sigh, gentling his voice. “You’re still recovering from your injuries and you seemed to be suffering some kind of fit when I found you earlier. I don’t want to have to summon the healers again…please.” He gestures to the chair in front of his desk. Newt frowns, but moves to comply. He approaches the chair slowly and from an oblique angle, not looking up. Once he’s finally seated he exhales shakily.

“Are you familiar with the term ‘déjà vu’ Mr Graves?” he asks.

“Of course. Why?” 

Newt looks up with an apologetic grimace. “It isn’t your fault, I mean actually you aren’t at all like him, or rather I suppose he wasn’t like you. It just, this” he waves his hand to encompass the both room and its two occupants. The penny drops and Newt flinches at the expression on Graves’ face. “Sorry. Tactless.” 

It’s Graves’ turn to look down now as he strives to contain the fury that comes over him at even such an indirect mention of Grindlewald. He makes a show of arranging papers and bringing out the automatic recording quill ready for Newt’s statement. When he looks up, Newt is regarding him with sympathy. “It’s good to meet the real you. I’m glad they were able to…” Graves cuts him off by clearing his throat loudly.

“Now that I have your attention Mr Scamander, I am going to need to take that statement now. It’s been a long night so I’d appreciate it if you could be succinct.”

“And then you’ll give me my case?” Graves nods. “Has anyone been into it?” 

“No, Mr Scamander. I don’t believe the fools in the evidence room knew quite what they had been handed. Didn’t you give your name when you were arrested?”

“Please, call me Newt. And there wasn’t much chance to give my name at first. There was a lot of shouting and hexes. I was concerned for the creatures and tried to reach them. I called out to warn your people not to hurt them, but I was hit in the back by a jelly-legs hex which made me fall. A foolish error on my part, but I was distracted.” Newt glances at the recording quill which has started to scratch across the empty page beneath it.

“I was about to release my Swooping Evil to create a bit of a distraction when I was hit in the back of the head. Everything went a bit fuzzy after that. I remember being grabbed, dragged, I’m not sure.” He rubs the back of his head as he remembers. “I think I must have struggled. I –ah- I don’t react well to being touched suddenly at the best of times. And I could hear the poor creatures. I remember that. So I fought.”

“And at no point were you asked to give your name?” Graves asks again.

“Not then, there wasn’t much chance to” Newt replies. His attention is turning inward as he remembers. His fidgeting ceases and he sits up straighter.

“Later, when I woke up I was in a small room with three men. Two guarding the door, and one sitting in front of me. I said my name then. I said my name was Newt and that I’m a magizooligist and that I needed to speak to Auror Tina Goldstein.”

“Just Newt. Not Scamander?” Newt shakes his head. “And...?”

“And they laughed and said I wasn’t going to be talking to anyone until they were finished with me. My case was gone and they wouldn’t say where. I was so worried that people were going through it like he did, like Grindlewald did, and frightening the creatures. The Occamies are still just babies, it wouldn’t do to…” Graves clears his throat pointedly, cutting Newt off.

“Please continue with the statement, Newt.”

“Sorry. Well, the one who was in charge, the pale one”

“Anders.”

“Right, Anders. Well he stood and said that since I had been arrested during the raid of a gang of know dangerous smugglers and I myself had violently resisted arrest that they would have to search me. I – I didn’t realise what he meant at first, but then he told me to stand up and take off my clothes.” Newt stops, face flushing red. His jaw and his left hand both clench tight.

“It’s not an uncommon procedure Newt. They have training.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been in some unpleasant situations over the years and like I said I don’t like to be touched. There was something off about them too, intimidating. All three of them really, but especially Anders. I thought about trying to escape, but the room was so small I couldn’t release the swooping evil. Before I could think of anything else, Anders had spelled my clothes away. The swooping evil cocoon must have gone with them and I was naked in front of them.” He closes his eyes, hand still clenched. He’s perfectly still, tension held in his body like a drawn bow.

“I’m – ah- quite badly scarred, over most of my body. I think they were quite shocked at the sight, then Anders said…he said…” he stops, swallowing convulsively as if fighting an urge to be sick.

“Newt…”

“He _said_ ‘Fuck me what a mess. Shame the rest of him’s not as pretty as his face. Still I don’t suppose it’ll make much difference one way or another. You - _Newt_\- bend over that table and spread your legs for me.’”

Graves feels his own body tense with the realisation of where this is going. This is not proper procedure by a long shot.

“I froze, I couldn’t make myself do what he asked, so the other two grabbed me by the arms and pinned me to the table. Anders came up behind me and…” Newt’s struggling to get the words out. The quill waits impassively for more.

“And conducted the search?” Graves suggests, not sure why he is trying to head Newt off like this. Actually that’s not true. He’s all too aware of the reason – the totally inappropriate surge of arousal he’s feeling at the thought of bending Newt, naked and trembling over his desk. Running hands over sensitive, scarred flesh. ‘Hell’s teeth’ he thinks. “Go on” he says aloud.

“Yes he conducted the search. He put his fingers inside me and…and…but he didn’t stop. He got rougher. He kept moving his fingers inside me and he put his other hand in my hair to pull my head up. Then he leaned in and put his lips to my ear and said that mutilated freaks like me should be grateful for what we can get, and that he was going to fuck me with his prick as well as his fingers. And when he was finished the other two would take a turn as well.”

Graves closes his eyes, feeling both disgust and that terrible, guilty arousal.

“So that was when I broke his nose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crikey this is turning out longer than I thought it would! Third part will be the final part now.


	3. Chapter 3

“So that was when I broke his nose.”

Graves opens his eyes at that, surprise allowing him to push back the decidedly unprofessional feelings he has been experiencing. Newt’s mouth is twisted in an expression of grim satisfaction as he remembers.

“But you were still restrained by the two guards?” Graves asks him. Newt nods. “So how did you..?”

“Well, that’s the thing about being held like that. People don’t expect a person to be willing to hurt themselves so they’ll only hold you so hard. So if you are…willing, that is…you have the element of surprise. It’s usually quite effective and I’m pretty good with pain these days.”

Graves can only stare in horrified silence.

“So I simply pulled back much harder than they were expecting. Hard enough to dislocate both my shoulders as it happens, but it had the effect of freeing me from their restraint and also bringing the back of my head into quite forceful contact with Anders’ face, breaking his nose.  
I knew I only had a few seconds while he was screaming and the other two were confused, so before they had time to collect themselves I made for the door.”

“Which, presumably, was securely locked.”

“Of course, but I’ve had some experience in that area.” A wild look has come into Newt’s eyes and his breathing has quickened. Graves digs his fingers painfully hard into his own leg under the desk and concentrates on keeping an expression of stern disapproval on his face.

“I’ve developed a technique.” Newt continues “That is I’ve found…it’s hard to describe, but if I say a spell out loud whilst also casting another spell wordlessly, even without a wand, then the combined effect can be even more powerful than casting the two spells consecutively. It’s a lot quicker too, obviously. I’ve given particular attention to learning unlocking spells. I, um, tend to need those ones most.” He glances at Graves, trying to judge his reaction.

“I’ve never heard of such a technique before. Casting any spell without a wand is difficult, and wordlessly, simultaneously. Newt this is…” He doesn’t know what this is. Preposterous, incredible, impossible, ridiculous. Graves sighs and passes a hand over his face. “No matter. Please continue with the statement.”

Newt looks down at his own clenched hand. “I was able to open the door and get out of the cell, but my situation was somewhat untenable. I was still naked and being pursued by a very angry, bleeding Auror. I was also in quite a lot of pain and couldn’t move my arms properly. If I’d been able to hide quickly I could have reset my shoulders, but as it was I just had to run and hope to find the way out. Or my case - preferably both. By that point I could feel the beginnings of the sensations that precede an attack of…you said I was in the grip of a seizure when you found me?” 

“The reports state you had deliberately used dark magic in order to attack other prisoners; magic you then lost control of causing injury to yourself.” Newt fixes Graves with another intense stare. Graves tries to meet it calmly as he continues. “But yes, to me it looked as though you were having a fit. Is that a condition you are prone to? And what was the cause of the lightening I saw coming from your body?”

Newt sighs, looking profoundly weary for a moment before turning away from Graves and directing his reply to the floor.  
“When I fought Grindlewald he used certain spells against me. No-one seems quite sure what they were, least of all me. They were certainly quite different from anything I had experienced previously. He seemed to be harnessing electrical energy and directing it as a kind of whip, but a whip that was able to penetrate right into my body. I felt it all through me quite intensely. It was…” He stops with a humourless smile. Graves watches the way he holds himself so still and tense, like an animal ready to fight or flee. The sight is striking enough to distract him from his own instinctive reaction to hearing Grindlewald’s name.  
“No matter” Newt continues. “The important part is that it seems to have left me with some lingering side-effects. My best theory is that the electrical energy passing through me has somehow disrupted my body’s own natural electrical systems. It’s interesting actually, there’s some fascinating Muggle ideas…”

“Keep it simple Newt, I don’t need a lecture. It’s been a long night.” Graves’ tone is sympathetic, but he means what he says. He’s too tired to deal with being confused.

“Sorry, yes of course. The upshot is, as far as I can tell, that I now periodically experience a violent upheaval in my brain and body, often accompanied by a discharge of magically generated electricity which can be quite dangerous for anyone who happens to be close to me. It tends to be exacerbated by stress and fatigue, which is terribly inconvenient really.  
“I also usually feel a tingling sensation in my limbs before it happens, which is what I was aware of as I escaped the cell. I’m afraid I didn’t get very far. Anders’ yelling alerted several other Aurors and I must have been hit with five different hexes all at once. I was able to deflect two, but I wasn’t thinking clearly and without being able to move my arms it was hard to do much. Once they had me on the ground it was all over really. I couldn’t get up and it must have looked pretty bad with Anders bleeding everywhere. He had them drag me to another cell…I’m not sure…it’s quite hazy from there. There were other people in the cell. I heard Anders’ say ‘Here you go, treat for you boys. Skinny little bastard shouldn’t put up too much of a fight now we’ve softened him up for you.’ I – I think he meant for them to…like he’d wanted to earlier…” 

Newt trails off, looking sad and exhausted. Just like that, Graves feels his troublesome lust leave him, replaced by a more innocent desire to offer comfort to the other man. And possibly to break Auror Anders’ nose a second time.

“I tried to warn them” Newt goes on. “I told them to stay back, not to touch me. I could feel the seizure coming on me properly by then. One of them did grab me. But that’s it. That’s all I can remember.” He glances at the recording quill, which skids to a halt on its page. “Who will see this?” he asks softly.

“It will be necessary to show the report to President Piquery, but her discretion can be relied on completely. Other than that, no-one. I have the authority to release you and I believe that, given what you have told me tonight, you in fact have grounds to take legal action regarding your arrest and treatment here. No further action will be taken against you at any rate. You’re free to go Newt.” 

“Oh? Well that’s good, yes, thank you.” Newt seems slightly thrown. “I certainly don’t wish to take any legal action. As I said I’m used to rough treatment from various kinds of law enforcement and really this isn’t even the worst.” He stops short at the furious expression on Graves’ face.

“Rough treatment from whatever counts as law enforcement in some uncivilised part of the world is one thing, but it is not what I expect here at MACUSA.” 

Newt smiles sadly. “I’ve found that civilised is a very relative concept Mr Graves. Now if I could trouble you for my case. And did you happen to find my Swooping Evil cocoon? And in fact you mentioned surviving creatures. I’d appreciate the chance to check their condition. Perhaps I could talk to you about educating your Aurors about magical creatures to avoid such a terrible loss of life occurring again?”

Graves sits back and lets Newt’s speech wash over him. He’s getting a strong sense that he’ll have a hard time denying anything to this puzzling, dazzling man. And right now, that really seems a fine thing.


End file.
